For I am a Mother
by hestia-jones85
Summary: Voldemort and the Death Eaters are waiting for Harry Potter in the clearing. Among those present is a woman, Narcissa Malfoy, who is considering her family’s fate. Why does she decide to save him?


**DISCLAIMER: **I am not J.K Rowling. Not by any chance.

* Quoted from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Ch 34, _The Forest Again_.

**For I am a Mother**

I wait in the clearing along with my husband, along with a hundred other Death Eaters, along with three beasts who are impatient for blood, and along with a restless, slithering coil which is enclosed in a oddly luminous cage. We stand, we kneel, we crouch - we are here, all of us except the half-giant captive, to wait for a casual wave of the hand of one man, an unthinking flick of his wand, an irrevocable nod of his head. All our eyes are drawn to that figure, who sits with his head bowed, his hands calmly knotted over a recently acquired wand.

Each passing minute becomes a harrowing hour in my mind. _Where is Draco? Where is my son? Is he safe? Is he alive?_ It takes every bit of control I can summon to stop myself from running off towards the castle. If only I could join the fight – but _He_ won't let me. He has never considered me worthy of fighting for him. He knows I am too _weak_. He knows that, if I went into the castle with the rest, I would not be wielding my wand but looking for my son.

Lucius slides his hands into mine and briefly squeezes it. I know what the gesture means - sorry, it says. Sorry, for the hundredth time, for dragging you and our son into this. I squeeze his hand back. In love, we have been equally culpable; in guilt, nothing has changed.

The gesture makes me think about something that has worried me for quite some time– our fate. The events of this night are going to decide our future. I cannot help but consider what tomorrow is going to be like for Lucius, Draco, and me. If the Dark Lord loses, we are headed for Azkaban; we are headed for long years of entrapment within ourselves, long years of nothing but our minds to converse with. And when we are released from the prison – if we are fortunate enough to see that day – we will only have a distrustful, hostile world waiting for us.

And if the Dark Lord wins? Will we be better off? What is life lived with constant fear? What is life lived with death looking at you with hunger in its eyes? What is life spent serving a master who will never be pleased?

"No sign of him, my lord," says Dolohov, entering the clearing.

How much longer do _I _have to wait? How much longer till I learn of my son's fate?

"My lord…" whispers a voice I no longer want to recognize. A woman is kneeling on the ground, inching closer and closer to the Dark Lord's feet. My sister…who used to play with me, who used to protect me…i_that_/i Bella lives no more. It is just Bellatrix now.

"I thought he would come," says the Dark Lord in a disappointed voice. I feel Lucius stepping back and pulling my hand. "I expected him to come."

Lucius's hand tugs at mine again. What difference does it make, darling? Will taking one step backward save me, or anyone, from his wrath?

"I was, it seems…mistaken," he finishes, in a mourning voice that usually bodes ill for those who happen to be near him.

"You weren't," replies the clear, determined voice of a youth. I turn towards where I think the voice just came from.

Harry Potter is standing in front of me.

At once, the atmosphere changes from one of tension to one of jubilant anticipation. In the span of a few seconds, I register several things - a deafening roar from the giants, excited whoops and shouts from the Death Eaters, and a cackle of laughter from Bellatrix. I continue watching Harry Potter - he is moving towards the Dark Lord, whose eyes are smoldering with hatred and cunning.

"HARRY! NO!" yells the half-giant suddenly. The boy turns around and sees his friend; he hesitates.

"NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT'RE YEH-"

"QUIET!" cries Rowle.

The half-giant shuts up.

It is just Harry Potter and the Dark Lord now. The boy says nothing, does nothing; he almost seems to be coolly waiting for the blow to strike. I am puzzled. Where is that fear? Has he no instinct for self-preservation? Is he really as foolish, and as heroic, as he is made out to be?

I look at the Dark Lord. A mirthless smile is carved on his face. He is enjoying what seems to be the end of Harry Potter.

"Harry Potter," he whispers. "The Boy Who Lived."

Time stands still for now. Death is coming.

Without warning, there is a shout, and a blinding flash of green light. The boy has fallen.

Triumphant cheers rise in the air. But I, who see no victory for my family either way, witness something else as well. The Dark Lord has collapsed.

Bellatrix is the second to notice this. "My lord!" she screams, kneeling beside her master's body. "No! No! My lord…"*

The Death Eaters rush to his side. Hope rushes to me. _Is this possible? Can we really be free of him?_

But, no, he seems to have stirred. They are hastily backing out.

"My lord…my lord…" croons Bellatrix, as if to a lover.

"That will do," says the cold voice in reply. He is getting to his feet.

"My lord, let me-" tries the woman again.

"I do not require assistance," says the Dark Lord pitilessly. His attention is fixed on the fallen body, which has not moved. "The boy," he asks, "is he dead?"

There are no volunteers brave – or loyal – enough to check.

He searches for one and finds me, the weakling. He has no need for me.

"You!" he cries, pointing his wand at me. The next instant, a sharp pain assaults my abdomen and I shriek. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

I have no choice. I nearly run towards the body on the ground, just to get it over with quickly. But when I reach him, I am irresistibly reminded of Draco. i_Where is my son? When does this end?_

Then, something catches me by surprise. I pull back one of the boy's eyelids and discover he is alive! With a flick of my head, I let my hair fall over to one side, so that no one sees what I am about to do. I move my hand over his chest and feel the pounding. He _is _alive!

I lean down towards his ear and ask him in a low voice, "Is Draco alive? Is he still in the castle?" I hope to Merlin he has heard me.

"Yes," he breathes back.

_My son is alive!_

My mind races over a series of blurred images – Lucius kissing me, my son riding his first toy broomstick, the body of a woman hanging upside down, Lucius and Draco shrieking in pain. I make my decision, pressing down on Harry Potter's chest to reassure him.

I gather what remaining strength I have so that I can lie to the one who cannot be deceived.

"He is dead," I cry.


End file.
